


Blind Date

by Effyeahzimbits



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: M/M, Waiter AU, zimbits - Freeform, zimbits au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-19 23:01:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13134021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Effyeahzimbits/pseuds/Effyeahzimbits
Summary: Jack didn’t like dates. He liked blind dates even less.Giftfic for westernredcedar in the 'Swawesome Santa 2017.





	Blind Date

**Author's Note:**

  * For [westernredcedar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/westernredcedar/gifts).



Blind Date

 

     Jack checked his watch again and let out a heavy sigh. Thirty minutes late. He slumped back into the cushioned seat again, his heart sinking even further in his chest. He had been stood up, there was no longer any doubt about it. He knew this had been a bad idea as soon as Shitty suggested it. Jack didn’t like dates. He liked blind dates even less.

     He only agreed to make his best friend happy. Shitty had been lamenting for months that Jack had no special someone to ‘worship that glorious Canadian ass’. Jack had grown tired of telling him that he was perfectly happy being single, mostly because he realised he was lying to himself. He had been getting lonely recently.

     He was twenty-eight and though that was by no means old and past it, he couldn’t help feeling a little bitter when all his few, but close, friends were happy and in love with their significant others. Taking his mom to family skate had long since lost its novelty, and now it was just plain sad. But Jack hated socialising with strangers, having always struggled with that awkward period of getting to know them. If meeting new people wasn’t a necessity, then he went out of his way to avoid doing just that.

     So, agreeing to a blind date had to be one of the stupidest things he’d ever done. Shitty had told him nothing about this guy apart from his age (a few years younger than him), he liked hockey (well that had to be a given), and that he was ‘super fucking cute brah’. If Jack hadn’t known better, he’d have said Shitty liked him himself, with the way he was gushing about how adorable his friend was. Shitty had begged and begged him for months until Jack finally caved.

     The way Shitty’s eyes lit up should have made him feel happy, but it just put Jack on edge. Shitty had arranged everything, going between the pair of them to set a date, time, and venue. Jack didn’t even have this guy’s number. He should have cancelled after all the anxiety this had caused him, but he didn’t want to disappoint Shitty. Besides, he figured he owed it to himself to at least try.

     And that was how he found himself in a sweet but crowded little café twenty minutes from his apartment, in the cobalt blue dress shirt that made his eyes look pretty but made him feel stiff, with his foot twitching nervously underneath the table, and avoiding the gaze of everybody in the place. They all knew him, and that was another reason there was sweat pooling in the small of his back. He was sure he was going to make the local news tomorrow morning.

     _Falconers’ Lead Scorer Fails to Score Date_

     He’d had enough. He drained his glass of ice water and got to his feet a moment later, prepared to ignore the stares and low murmurs as he marched out. He barely took one step away from the table when the waiter who brought him his water dashed over to his side with a large, elaborately decorated menu in hand.

     “Leaving already?”

     The waiter spoke with a bright southern drawl that made Jack’s chest feel warm and at home, like he’d just swallowed a bite of his dad’s homemade sugar tart. He was the type of person Jack instinctively gravitated to – smiley, bubbly and extroverted. He was everything Jack was not. Jack wished he was on a date with him instead.

     “Euh, yeah,” Jack sighed, his voice quiet. “I’m not going to humiliate myself any further.”

     “Oh, honey. Give him a few more minutes, I’m sure he’ll turn up. He’s probably tied up in traffic,” the waiter suggested, carefully standing between Jack and the way out.

     Jack looked at him for a moment, trying to read his expression. His bisexuality was public knowledge by now, and the waiter was wearing a coy little smile. If Jack didn’t know better, he would say he was being teased.

     “I don’t think that’s the case,” Jack murmured. His fingertips were starting to tingle, and he curled them up into his palms. “Goodnight.”

     The waiter sidestepped the same time Jack did, effectively blocking him once more. Jack would be pissed if he wasn’t wearing such a charming smile.

     “Five more minutes,” he repeated insistently, almost like a child begging for more time with their favourite toy. He seemed to clock Jack’s building anxiety, and he tilted his head in the direction of the kitchens. “I’ll take you to a quieter table, in the back, out of the way.”

     Jack hesitated. He really wanted to go home and drown his sorrows in the History Channel. But there was something sincere and beckoning in this young man’s warm brown eyes. So, Jack sighed and nodded. A quiet corner would be nice, and he was hungry. The way the waiter’s face lit up made Jack’s head feel fuzzy. He flicked a glance at his nametag. Eric.

     Eric was an average height, though next to Jack he seemed smaller with his slim shoulders and defined waist. He was attractive too. Jack particularly liked his big eyes and the smattering of freckles over his nose. He had a thing for blondes, he knew that at least. Eric’s hair was golden, long on top with trendy, shaved sides. Jack wanted to run his fingers along the short parts.

     The table Eric led him to was small and right by the kitchen door. Any other customer would have turned their nose up at it, but to Jack it seemed like a haven. There was a lot less noise here, and a lot less people to stare at him. He took the offered seat gratefully. Eric held out the menu to him, his bright smile replaced with one that was a little more sympathetic.

     “Now then. You and I both know this date of yours is a no show. But it’d be a shame to let him ruin your night. The food here is amazing, and you’ve come all this way, after all.”

     Jack was about to protest that he lived close by and he’d rather just go home and eat a plate full of chicken tenders, but Eric thrust the menu into his hands. The sparkle was back in his eyes and Jack forgot what he was going to say.

     “I suggest the tuna steak with the asparagus salad,” Eric went on, bending over slightly so he could point the item out on the menu. Jack had a sudden whiff of cinnamon and vanilla, and felt warm and fuzzy all over. When he straightened up again, the smell lingered, but the spell it created in Jack’s brain broke.

     “I don’t think so. Isn’t it a little pathetic to eat by myself?” He snorted, trying to hand Eric the menu back.

     “Not at all,” Eric insisted, almost sounding affronted. “People do it all the time. Besides. I’ll keep you company.” His face split into a dazzling grin again, and this time, he actually winked playfully at him. Jack stared.

     “Um. But don’t you have work to do?” He asked eloquently, before mentally kicking himself. Well that was smooth, wasn’t it? Except it totally wasn’t.

     “It’s a slow night. This place is basically empty,” Eric argued with a trilling laugh. The café looked full enough to Jack. “I’d much rather chat a little with you than with anyone else here. Please?” He begged when Jack still looked hesitant. “I’ll even throw in a piece of my homemade award-winning maple sugar crusted apple pie. How does that sound?”

     Jack pulled a face, pretending to think about it. Honestly, it was the best offer he’d had in a long time.

     “Apple pie seals the deal,” he smirked, taking the menu back. He mentally congratulated himself. Smooth as silk, Zimmermann.

     “You drive a hard bargain, sir,” Eric teased, standing to attention with his notepad, pen poised. “In that case, may I take your order?”

     Jack did indeed order the tuna steak, along with a low-alcohol bottle of beer and a side order of fries. Eric danced off to the kitchen with his request, appearing a moment later with his bottle of beer. He regretfully couldn’t stay, but Jack felt placated for now. He could enjoy a meal to himself and forget all about the stupid blind date.

     He texted Shitty while he waited for his salad, telling him what an awful idea it was and how Shitty owed him big time. Eric kept up a string of pleasant chatter as he went backwards and forwards from table to kitchen. Jack found he was starting to enjoy himself, his anxiety drifting away like it was never there. It was almost like he was the only one in the café.

     In the frequent passing moments between serving people, Jack learned Eric was from Madison, Georgia, and had been to college in Boston where he studied food science. He also discovered he was a keen baker with a passion for Beyoncé. Jack usually struggled opening up to strangers, but Eric made him feel at ease, and he shared facts about his own life that he typically kept to himself. Eric didn’t react when Jack mentioned hockey, so he assumed Eric had no idea who he was. Even better.

     His tuna finally arrived, and Eric left him in peace to eat. It was as tasty as the waiter promised, and Jack felt grateful that his date hadn’t turned up. He’d probably have spent the evening making boring small talk with one of Shitty’s Harvard law friends and resisting the urge to escape out of the bathroom window. Instead he entertained the idea of asking Eric what time he finished and whether he could take him for a walk.

     Just as he finished his salad, Jack became acutely aware of eyes on his back. He spared a quick glance behind him, and his stomach sank as he noticed a group of teenagers had definitely recognised him, phones in hand. He turned back to the wall, but the doubt had already set in. What were they whispering about? Were they taking pictures? When Eric passed his table again, Jack was ready to bolt out of his chair.

     “Leaving already, honey?” He asked with a frown, hand twitching as if he wanted to lay it on his shoulder. “What about your pie?”

     Jack’s head twitched towards the teenagers, and he didn’t even need to say anything, but Eric understood. He fixed a determined (and very attractive) expression on his face and marched over to the group’s table. Jack quickly turned his back on them, wishing his empty plate would swallow him whole. He heard Eric firmly but politely tell the boys to respect the diners’ privacy and return to their own meals. By the time Eric came back to the table, Jack’s face was bright red.

     “Are you alright?” The waiter asked in a soft voice. Jack felt his walls crumbling.

     “Yeah,” he sighed, suddenly tired. “I’m sorry. That’s why I don’t come out often. I uh, prefer to keep to myself. I…play for the Falconers,” he explained weakly.

     “Sweetpea, I know,” Eric commented with an amused smile.

     “Y-you know?” Jack stared at him again.

     “Yes,” Eric replied, looking even more entertained.

     “I played hockey in college.”

     “Oh.”

     Eric laughed softly and really did pat his hand this time. Jack was never washing that hand again. The pet names were killing him. The knowledge that Eric knew who he was and hadn’t acted upon it baffled him too.

     “You shouldn’t let other people stop you from living your life,” Eric told him gently, quietly gathering up his empty plate and dirty cutlery. “You owe them nothing. I know it’s easier said than done, but you should focus on making yourself happy. Not them.”

     It was nothing he hadn’t heard before. Hell, his therapist told him something similar most weeks. But hearing it from Eric made it hit home that little bit more. He offered the waiter a weak but genuine smile.

     “Thank you.”

     “Don’t mention it.” Eric winked again, and Jack’s insides turned to jelly.

     “So, about that apple pie,” Jack prompted, unable to resist grinning innocently. Eric laughed loudly.

     “Comin’ right up,” he grinned charmingly, purposely exaggerating his accent.

     Jack watched him disappear into the kitchen, only just able to stop himself from sighing dreamily. He couldn’t blame the single beer for his fuzzy head, and maybe he was drunk on pheromones, but he knew he had to ask Eric out. He owed it to himself. Maybe he was going to end up owing Shitty after all.

     Eric was taking a while, but Jack didn’t think too much of it. He replied to a few more of Shitty’s dramatic apologetic texts, purposely chirping him a little more. A short while later, two plates were set on his table, both holding a perfectly shaped slice of thick, crisp and heavenly smelling apple pie. Jack looked up to question Eric about the second plate, secretly hoping he was joining him, and his jaw dropped.

     The waiter had changed from his plain shirt and slacks, into a pair of tight fitting skinny jeans and smart dark shirt that made his eyes appear even warmer. Eric grinned brightly at him, tweaking his cute little bow tie before promptly sitting opposite him.

     “Hi! Sorry I’m late! I was meant to finish at six, but someone called in sick and the boss made me cover for them,” he explained, pushing a fork in across the table for him and waving his other hand elaborately as he talked.

     Jack’s expression turned from confused to utterly dumbfounded.

     “Oh, of course! Where are my manners?” Eric snorted, sticking out his hand. “I’m Eric Bittle. Or Bitty, to my friends.”

     Jack’s jaw dropped.

     “ _You’re_ Shitty’s friend?” He gasped in disbelief.

     “That’s me!” Bitty chirped cheerfully, eyes sparkling. He was breath-taking, and Jack couldn’t take his eyes off him. “I had a stall at the local country fair with my famous mini pies a couple of years ago, and he strolled on up and bought my whole batch! We’ve been friends ever since.”

     Jack still stared. None of this made sense. Eric was…Bitty? The guy Shitty had set him up with?

     “I…what?” He said eloquently, feeling like his brain was made of cotton wool. Eric’s bright smile fell away, and he sighed, shoulder’s deflating slightly.

     “I’m really sorry I made you think you were being stood up,” he began, soft voice sincere as he gazed at him. “They really did make me stay. I know I should have said no but…I really need this job. And honestly? I was a little worried about this date. Shitty made out you were this amazing guy, but whenever I saw you on television I just…well, you always seemed a little…abrupt, and short tempered. No offence of course! And I know I shouldn’t base my opinion on that, but I couldn’t help it. So, I thought I’d take advantage of the situation and see what kind of guy you were before I blew my cover.”

     Jack sat back, watching him as he processed that in his head. It sounded farfetched, but Jack couldn’t argue with Eric’s reservations. He knew he appeared unlikeable and unapproachable to most people, it was why he barely left the house and hated press interviews. But Eric had seen past all of that this evening, and had decided that Jack was worth a try. So, he smiled and picked up his fork.

     “And what kind of guy do you think I am?” Jack asked almost flirtatiously. He speared a piece of the pie, waiting for Eric’s reply before tasting it.

     “I think you’re a sweetheart,” Eric grinned back, definitely trying to be alluring and making Jack blush slightly. “I also think you’re about to be floored by my five times county fair award-winning pie,” Eric boasted with a smirk.

     Jack lifted an eyebrow at him and playfully popped the pie into his mouth. The pastry was buttery sweet, and contrasted with the sharp tang of apple. He squashed the appreciative noise and swallowed before nodding eagerly.

     “Definitely floored,” he grinned brightly, eating another mouthful. Eric laughed and started on his own plate.

     “I’m glad you’re not pissed off with me,” Eric continued. “I hate blind dates. They’re so awkward, and I never know what to say, and I just end up rambling and talking about silly, irrelevant little details…” He stopped as he suddenly realised he was doing exactly that.

     Jack laughed and nudged his knee lightly under the table with his own. It filled him with warmth to see Bitty just as nervous as he had been.

     “Relax, I already like you,” Jack admitted softly, unintentionally lowering his voice and leaning toward him. Eric’s face split into a wide smile again, his eyes lighting up.

     “Your blind date is a fool for standing you up,” Eric declared boldly, barely holding in a giggle. “He sure as heck regrets it.”

     “I think I can find it in myself to forgive him,” Jack snickered, holding his eyes as he took another bite of pie. “The night doesn’t seem to be ruined after all.”

 

The End

**Author's Note:**

> Season's greetings to all! I hope you've enjoyed reading, and thank you very much. 
> 
> Thanks so much for the request, westernredcedar. This has been such a pleasure to write and I hope you like it. 
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr as Effyeahzimbits. See you there.


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